Tuesday, January 30, 2007

We're You're Dream Girls... Boooooys We'll Make You Haaappy... Yeeah Yeah Yeeeah!

Motown.... I've been obsessed with it since like the age of 5 when I discovered that my beloved Michael and Janet were in some way linked to the Jackson 5, who had been discovered by Diana Ross, who'd head-lined the Supremes, whose boyfriend and baby-daddy was Berry Gordy, who had master-minded the careers of Lionel Richie, Stevie Wonder, The Temptations and who owned the entire music MACHINE known as Motown.

I was so obsessed my dad bought documentaries on Michael Jackson just for me (and on Madonna and ABBA for himself... weird). Later on, in that heaven-sent month when NTA showed every episode of "The Jacksons: An American Dream", which is still my faaavourite mini-series of all time, my very busy father would wait up till midnight, or whatever God-forsaken hour they were showing it, just to press play on the video recorder. He didn't know what all the fuss was about. He never watched the episodes, he just did it so that his brat of a daughter would get to watch the enactment of a story she already knew inside out. I dunno why he didn't just agree to extend my bed-time by four hours so that I could go through all the trouble myself.

By age 8 I could recite hundreds of bits of trivia, not just about MJ the great, but about his family and his "friends" too. The quest to see just how many Motown-related facts I could stuff into my brain without exploding gave way to a true and genuine appreciation of Motown, its hits and its stars. From about 14, I bought compilation after compilation, watched the zillions of biographical mini-series (It turns out Gordy had a penchant for the cheesy but delightful productions), and last year, I even saw the "Motown Dancing in the Streets" musical... twice!

After that rather unecessary summary of my obsession with all things Motown, you won't be surprised I'm sure when I say that for the last month or so I had been DYING to see Dream Girls. I'd heard about the movie aaages ago on E! to be honest, but only developed an interest in it when I learned it was about the Supremes. You see, I'd switched off instantly when Ryan Seacrest or whoever it was, announced that Dream Girls would be starring our dear Miss Knowles. Love her, I do - You could even say I "Lust" her (I know I'm using it the wrong way okay?) because if I was a same-sexer I most definitely would do her. But then, I neither love nor "lust" her movies. To put it simply (and I hate to be so boring and state the obvious)... they suck!

Dream Girls doesn't hit British cinemas till Friday - I know... how slooow are we? But, ever the resourceful Sherlock, Bitchy kept a close eye on the cinemas within her vicinity and jumped and danced for joy on Saturday afternoon when she discovered the movie would be opening on Sunday, and not on Friday as advertised.

Getting to the point is taking forever, so I'm just going to get there.

I Loooooooooooooovvvvvvveeeed IT!

It was just.... phenomenal... In every way - The MUSIC, the colours, the clothes, the story-line, the MUSIC, the choreography, the sheer fluffy-bitchyness of the entire thing, the depth, characters, the personalities... the everything!

First, our friend Miss Knowles, looked amazing! Although 6 or 7 shades lighter in complexion that Miss Ross, and in possession of a voice (again..) 6 or 7 times richer, she pulled it off! It was incredible! When she danced, I saw Diana, and whenever she so much as moved, I saw her again! See the clip below of my absolute favourite bit in the movie, for an illustration of this Diana-esque behaviour! She also took a leaf or two out of Diana's book, and didn't once attempt to sing like the Diva Supreme, which would have been a complete disaster if she had - Diana Ross played Billie Holiday in Lady Sings the Blues decades ago and withstood all pressure to sing the Billie way, instead doing a personal imitation that earned her a Golden Globe and an Oscar nomination.

She did annoy me a little I confess, but only when she talked. She wasn't Diana when she talked... she was back to being irritating, boring, over-dramatic Bee. But she didn't talk often thankfully, so in all, it was grrreat! Her performance clearly wasn't worth the $15 million (or whatever ridiculous sum Yodi said) Daddy Matthew weasled for her, because she so blatantly wasn't the intended star of the whole show!

Jennifer Hudson...

Blew me away from the minute she walked on in a leopard print silk scarf and stomped onto the stage at the amateur contest. I had heard she was incredible, that she'd won the Golden Globe and been nominated for an Oscar, but I hadn't really given it that much thought. As Florence Ballard... Oops.. sorry... Effie White, she was just phenomenal - Am I being paranoid, or have I used that word twice already? The scene media critics raved about where she sang her heart and guts out alone onstage was so worth every bit of the hooha it received.

I couldn't believe how good she was. I spent the entire movie trying to work out where I'd seen her before, and why her face and voice were so familiar. I then felt like such a dumbo when I got home and onto Google to find out that she was the Jennifer Hudson I'd cheered for (and then gotten bored of) on American Idol 3. Its amazing how far she's come. I found out today that she beat over 200 people to the role, including Fantasia who'd beaten her in 2004 to the Idol title. I also found out, much to my relief, that she'd had to put on over 50 pounds for the role and hadn't, as I'd imagined, spent the last 2 years stuffing her face with chicken thighs and cupcakes just because she didn't make it to the A.I. final.

Right now, I'm listening to Eddie Murphy singing "I Meant You No Harm" which is probably the most beautiful song in the film. Of course, as you'll find out, he never finishes it, and even on the soundtrack I purchased on Sunday from Amazon (I love how speedy they are!) its unfinished too. Its so sad! A lot of the other songs he does in the movie didn't quite make it onto the soundtrack (the US version that is... I was too impatient to wait for the fuller UK version to come out in 2 weeks), and its a shame cuz he was so sooooo good. I was really surprised by him. I'm not a fan of his pregnant-girlfriend-dumping ass, and so had even forgotten about his disastrous attempts in the '80s and '90s to make it as a singer, although... that's probably a good thing because he really was a thousand times better than I'd been expecting (even without the prejudice from his crappy music videos tainting my vision).

After all this, it pains me to add that Jamie Foxx was in fact, the most disappointing thing in the entire film. His performance was several centigrades below lukewarm. It just wasn't good enough. His singing too, left much to be desired, which was such a shocker after the Unpredictable album. With hindsight I suppose it was the songs and production on Unpredictable, rather than the man doing the singing, that made it a success, but that still doesn't make it easier for me to swallow the Foxx's far from Foxxy performance as Berry Gordy... Oops! I mean... Curtis Taylor Jr.

I'll stop here before I give away the entire story in the process of bemoaning Jamie's terrible performance.

Ooh.. one more thing. I'm not for a second implying that Dream Girls or Hudson deserve Oscars, before anyone crucifies me! There were definitely a few parts of the movie that got on my nerves... and even though they were few and far between, they managed to do just a little damage to my overall enjoyment of the whole film. The problem, I think, stems from its being an adaptation of a musical. A couple of parts are just a tad theatrical, or cheesy, or downright random. Now, I easily forgave them, because I'm a lover of musicals, but I'm not sure Oscar and his friends will be able to. Come to think of it, perhaps I shouldn't pretend as though I always knew Dream Girls the motion picture was based on Dream Girls the Broadway production. After all, I'm the same person who turned to her little sister and said "Why the hell are they bursting into song every minute? This is so cheesy!" to which she replied, "Its a musical, you mumu!"
This is my faaaavourite bit in the entire film! I can't get enough of it... I've watched it over and over... Yes, I'm a loser. But, Beyonce' is just faaaabulous! I wanna be a Dream Girl too!

Saturday, January 27, 2007

Cooking for the Continental Man - Vol. 4

Before I'm inundated with wise cracks from the Rukks and the Cheeks, I would just like to say that... yes, I do know how to count, and yes... I do know the number "3" comes before the number "4".

Seeing as more than one person has already taken it upon themselves to try out my frou frou recipes, I decided it'd be best if I put up the secrets to the one Squash feast I cooked up that I know is guaranteed to impress these faithfuls, if they can be called that at this early stage... teehee! That feast is Vol. 4, the praises of which I sung whilst writing Vol. 2 the other day. I don't have a name for it yet, but for now we can refer to it as...

The Amazing Buttery Meaty Squashy Fest

  • Half a Butternut Squash

  • 2 tbsps of Butter (or more if you're going to the gym tomorrow)

  • Drizzles of olive oil

  • 2/3 of a Corned Beef Tin

  • An Onion

  • Roughly 3 or 4 tbsps of Canned Plum Tomatoes

  • 2 Red Chillies

    Cooking Time: 30 minutes max

    What To Do:

    From the list of ingredients alone you probably already know what the outcome will be. First, "prep" the squash (Teehee! I love this... I have my own super chef terminology already!). Then heat the olive oil in a pot, add the butter and throw in the squash chunks. As usual leave that to fry whilst turning it occasionally and if necessary, adding more butter.

    Meanwhile, chop up the onion and the chillies. Heat a little oil in a frying pan and toss the onion and chilli pieces into it. Fry until they're a golden (but not brown) colour and then scoop the corned beef out of the tin and into the pan. Stir the mix till the corned beef softens, and ensure that you lower the heat at this point - corned beef is notorious for its desire to adhere to frying pans! When the mix is a noticeably darker shade of brown than the un-fried corned beef had been, add the 3 or 4 tbsps of canned tomatoes. How much you add should depend on how fluid you like your sauces to be. I'm not of fan of turning fried corned beef into a tomato-ey stew because I feel it takes away oodles of flavour, but if you are, then you'll need a hell of a lot more than 4 tbsps of canned tomatoes. However much you add, the tomatoes should at least loosen the beef and onion mix to the extent that it becomes clear its meant to be a chunky sauce of sorts. Keep frying it for as long as you wish to, or until it begins to leave annoying brown skin behind with each turn in the frying pan.

    All this while you should've been checking on your squash and turning it frequently. The squash should be at the mushy but still relatively solid stage that we spoke about in Vol. 1. This stage is just... the best! The squash should be brown at the edges and corners but of a golden hue in general. Your fork should be able to dismember any chunk with ease unless very delicate care is taken. When sampling a chunk, it should be soft, but should at least require more than one slam of the big white ones before melting into sugary buttery goodness in your mouth... You must get what I mean by now.

    What to do next? Toss the squash onto a plate and layer the corned beef on top of it... et voila! C'est fini.

    You may be wondering at this point why I raved and ranted and had a near orgasmic encounter on Thursday, the day I thought up this amazing buttery meaty squashy fest. I think its because two of my faaavourite meals are, fried plantain and corned beef stew, and fried yam and corned beef stew. With the amazing {...} squashy fest, I literally had the best bits of both of my favoured accompaniments to corned beef stew - the raw and unprocessed sugariness of fried plantain, and the texture and thickness of soft fried yam (Like I said the other day, Bitchy does not do yam rocks!)

    It was heaven on earth... and truuue fans of "the mean beef," will dig it.

    P.S. This recipe requires no seasoning whatsoever. If you buy a good brand of corned beef like Fray Bentos, you won't need any salt or black pepper or anything... it'll do all the work!

    P.P.S. Volume 3 will be up on Monday at the latest. I'm reeeally kinda sad now and might tarry a while before creating Vol. 5 because I have only 2 of my Squash palsies left to get through. Sigh... just as we were beginning what looked to be an orgasm-inducing affair.

    I mourn...
  • Thursday, January 25, 2007

    Super Woman

    Why do men believe we owe them all of everything within us that is good? All the joy, all the honesty, all the thoughtfulness, all the patience, all the kindness, all the love, all the... everything?

    When will they ever understand that sometimes...

    We just don't want to give... not anything... not even a 2 minute phone call.

    We too get tired.

    Cooking for the Continental Man - Vol. 2

    I am so pleased to be able to report the following two things.

    1 - the Ruks is attempting the Vol. 1 recipe tonight... Yaay! Before I know it, I'll have a following, and

    2 - At this very moment I am in the process of giving birth to my fourth squash recipe, which I assure you is a thousand times more complicated and more delicious than that in Vol. 1.

    Before I get down to the details of the Vol. 2 recipe I would just like to add a little tidbit to the recipe I put up yesterday, which is crucial in dealings with our friend - "the squash". That tidbit is, please do not hesitate to add a little olive oil or sunflower oil or whatever to the mix when you're frying the squash. Butter's great for the flavour but you need the oil to keep your pan constantly greased.

    Okay... so...

    Butternut Squash and Broccoli Cream Soup

  • Half a Butternut squash

  • Enough water to cover the squash in a pan

  • Splodges of single cream or double cream

  • Two thirds of an M&S pack of Broccoli

  • One Vegetable stock cube

    Cooking Time: 25 minutes

    What To Do:

    First peel, core and chop the squash into chunks (can we just take this part as a given for the next 3 recipes? Thanks... we can refer to it as "prepping the squash"). Place the chunks into a pot and fill the pot with just enough water to cover the squash.

    Boil the squash for as long as it takes to soften it. Now... be very careful at this part. I suffered a serious mishap that set my confidence back (but only for a couple of minutes... teehee!). You've got to keep an eye on the squash whilst its boiling. To some, that would be stating the obvious... but to me it really wasn't quite so obvious. I thought I could leave the squash boiling in the kitchen whilst I sent a couple of emails. What I forgot to consider was that because I was using very little water (to prevent as much sugar-loss as possible) the water evaporated pretty damn quickly! I'd also taken the cover off the pot so that the water wouldn't bubble over and spill onto my cooker top, which meant the water evaporated even more quickly!

    So roughly ten or twelve minutes later a whiff of something rather alarming and rubbery made its way up my nose, I raced into the kitchen and found all the water missing from a very angry, very blackened, pot!

    All was not lost however, as squash really is a gem (To be fair I think this was the moment our love affair began). The pot was pissed as hell... but the squash wasn't phased in the slightest. All I had to do was scoop the squash chunks out of the pot and onto a plate (of course leaving behind strips of black skin here and there), and from then I was free to continue with my rather ambitious soup. At this stage by the way the boiling (or rather, burning) had achieved exactly what I wanted, which was soft, mashed-potato-like, melt-in-your-mouth squash!

    The next phase involved the broccoli. You should've begun boiling the broccoli at the same time as the squash by the way (in a separate pot obviously... duh!) but being a total amateur at that time, I didn't think to do that. I set aside my squash, mashed it up even more with a fork, before setting about boiling the broccoli. That took very little time though, to be honest.

    Next... remove the broccoli from the pot in which its boiling, DO NOT chuck the water by the way. Then, cut the broccoli up into very tiny, very soft pieces. Then... return the broccoli and the mushed up squash to the swampy-looking broccoli water and twirl it around for a couple of seconds. You can decide to get rid of some of the water if you're looking for something a little more broth-like.

    At this point, put your solitary vegetable stock cube into the mix (I have to confess, I used a chicken cube... pray tell, who has vegetable stock lying around in their cupboard waiting to be used on a whim? Certainly not I). Keep twirling the mixture to make sure the stock fully dissolves by the way, pick up your pot of cream and splodge as much or as little as you desire into the pot. Now the mushed up mix in your pot should finally begin to look something like soup.

    I'm afraid this is where I stopped. I boiled and boiled and boiled the mix but it wouldn't get any thinner. It literally stayed put... as a mushy broth.

    So.... I ate it that way. It was delicious, after being seasoned of course (yet another thing to be taken as a given even though I don't mention it). However it was just a little sickening as the texture really wasn't quite right. Another point to add is that I had more than enough for one in the pot by the way, so please ensure there's someone with whom to share the mushy love if you do decide to give it a try. Also, feel free to add mushrooms - I would've done, but was too lazy to chop anything else up after the tedious task of chopping up squash, and so stuck with squash and broccoli alone. But go ahead... jazz it up, and be sure to let me know how on earth to get it from the mushy stage to the soupy stage.


    P.S. Vol. 4 is orgasmic! I'm literally this close to tears right now, because something so simple and so effortless has turned out be a masterpiece. As with all my other inventions, it isn't a jewel to look at, but you'll see... you'll have to stop yourself from moaning... and trust me, it'll be difficult.
  • Wednesday, January 24, 2007

    Cooking for the Continental Man - Vol. 1

    Oops! Got a little side-tracked after the last post and discovered a million other things I'd rather blog about, but seeing as I've committed myself to this cooking thing. Here goes...

    Squash with Lemon and Herb Chicken

    Stuff (I hate the word "ingredients" - Its such an ugly word):

  • Half a Butter nut squash (the long kind not the short kind)

  • 3 giant table spoons of butter

  • Chilli flakes

  • 1/4 Nando's Chicken

    Cooking Time: 30 minutes (or 45)

    What to do:

    Melt the butter in a pan (preferably not a frying pan, use a pot). Ooops.. before that, rinse the squash, peel the squash, core the squash (i.e. chuck the seeds), and slice the squash into cube-like chunks. The latter part of all that can be rather difficult. I ended up using this massive knife, and even that didn't make it much easier. Squash is a bitch! But this bitch is now a pro after having battled with several of the yellow bitches by the time of writing.

    Oh and in case you forgot, you're only chopping up half of the squash. Wrap up the other half, put it in the fridge and save it for dinner time! Yippee.... Not!!

    So where was I? Now you can melt the butter and then place the squash chunks in gently - you don't want hot butter soiling your cashmere jumper and my pot is notoriously bitchy when it comes to spitting at cashmere! {I'm such a bloody liar - I wasn't wearing a cashmere jumper when I did this. Do I even own a cashmere jumper? Okay maybe I do... But there's no way in hell I'd ever wear it whilst cooking!!}

    Now this part annoyingly takes a VERY long time. What we're trying to do is fry the squash in the butter to the point where it gets soft and slightly mushy - kinda like fried yam (after you've boiled the yam first oh... not those yam rocks some people pass around as fried yam!). The problem with squash is that the darn thing likes to brown and caramelise before it hits the yummy mushy-goodness stage that we want.

    One trick (and I'm blushing with pride that I discovered this all by myself and not on "squash4dummies.com", if such a thing does exist) is to boil the squash first before frying. The hot water does all the softening for you and when it comes to the frying all you need is half the above-stated amount of butter to seal the deal!

    Down-sides to this method are the spitting and fizzing that will ensue when you transfer the wet squash from the water pot to the butter pot, and the annoying fact that the squash loses almost all its sugariness whilst being softened in the water pot. The latter point is a huge disadvantage from my perspective because the joy of squash is in its sugary goodness.

    Whatever method you decide upon should be determined by (a) your indifference to butter and the huuuge amount of saturated fat that entails, and (b) the amount of time on your hands - The "water pot and butter pot method" takes about 10 minutes whilst the "butter pot solo method" takes about 25 to 30.

    Once you're over the hurdle I now refer to as "the softening", you can begin "the seasoning", with a pinch of salt and some chilli flakes, and then finally, "the gentle placing" of the slightly mushy chunks on a clean plate beside a warm piece of chicken. If you acquired your Nando's chicken a short while before you began the grueling course of dealing with the squash, you can even skip the warming part and save yourself a few seconds.

    And with that, you have it... a deeelish plate of squash and lemon and herb chicken.

    P.S. This was my first recipe so forgive the simplicity of it all. I was rather apprehensive about the task at hand. I was also in a hurry to get something into my tummy.

    Stay tuuuned for Vol. 2 - Squash and Broccoli Cream Soup!
  • Cooking for the Continental Man - The Intro

    So I haven't blogged in a week - Perhaps because I've been bogged down with hosting faaabulous parties, doing school work for a change, facebooking, watching American Idol etcetera etceteroo... AND I've also because I've been doing a lot of cooking!

    Isn't that amazing? ME... Cooking!!

    I've never been a deft hand in the kitchen... Like most other women of the negroid persuasion, I can get by in the kitchen and produce something edible, but unlike most other women of the negroid persuasion, that something edible is usually the product of hours of cursing, sweating and furious spillage-control. I don't enjoy cooking but then its something I've always wanted to be good at. One of my New Year's resolutions this year was to become a "domestic goddess" and on January 1st, I planned to achieve that by vowing to cook myself at least one meal a week for the entire year.

    Well.... Three weeks passed and I did no such thing until a series of events that led up to me having a fridge FULL of cooking ingredients that were bound to expire within a couple of days if I didn't do anything with them.

    On Friday night I placed an order for groceries online. Stuffing my basket with the usuals - chocolate, biscuits, bread rolls and poptarts, I checked out and thought nothing of it. On Saturday a very grumpy looking fellow arrived late (and he still had the audacity to be grumpy... scheeeuuwww) with a mountain of shopping bags. I should've worked out then that something wasn't quite right but I was in the process of getting ready for my partaaay at the time and so really the groceries were the last thing on my mind.

    Anyway I eventually decided to unpack them and began to groan in the process. I uncovered FIVE Butternut Squashes, Two MASSIVE tubs of Porcini mushrooms, Three packs of puff pastry, Onions, garlic, chillies, cream and loads and loads of other things that you would order if you were say... in the mood to have a Christmas party?

    I worked out after a lot of fuming and more cursing, that I'd forgotten to remove certain items from my online grocery basket which had been placed there by yours truly in December when planning for the Christmas party she was scheduled to have in LAGOS! Needless to say that I'd already HAD that Christmas party, in Lagos, on December the 23rd, and thus had absolutely NO use for all the very fresh, non long-life, non processed, non preservative-stuffed food that was blocking my path in my very tiny kitchen. P.S. I also have a very TINY fridge!

    Anyway after the party (an astounding success mind you... teehee!) was over and done with, I woke up refreshed on Monday morning (Sunday was a complete write-off), and decided I was going to have to cook my way through the jungle of fresh produce.

    Now... I'm one of those bad beles who thinks (even though she can't cook) that people who say they can cook when all they can really do is follow carefully laid-out procedures and pictures in recipe books, are pathetic. I don't think they qualify as good cooks because they aren't doing anything creative or spontaneous.

    To cut a long story short, this week will diarise my journey into the hitherto forbidden forest that is my kitchen. I've already come up with 2 recipes of which I'm rather proud and will share in a minute. I've called it "Cooking for the Continental Man" because:

    1) I only ever cook for men (be they boyfriends, brothers, cousins, hungry friends) as its not worth going through all that hassle for myself alone - I really don't appreciate it and would rather spare myself the torment by just picking up the phone and dialing well-memorised numbers, and

    2) When I filled him in on the joys of this creative recipe-development process, the "man" in my life a.k.a. he who shall not be named, asked me why I was wasting my time with all this "mede-mede" when efo elegusi is the key to unlocking his soul!!!

    Therefore... pleasing the Yodi is clearly not the object of this whole exercise, and I've invented a fictional character - "the Continental Man" who won't "mmm" and "aaahh" sarcastically when hearing the ins and outs of my culinary delights!!

    P.S. Ummm.... The theme is Butternut Squash.

    P.P.S. Please understand... I have FIVE of them (and five massive ones at that) to get through. I'm literally eating, breathing and shitting butternut squash.... Squash Squash Squash Squash Squash Squash Squash Squash.....

    Wednesday, January 17, 2007

    Votes For Hotties!

    For Race? Or Tribe? Or Sex? Or Hotness Factor?

    Its a toughie...

    The Economist informs me that Barack Obama is looking to enter the 2008 race for the White House. He will publicly declare whether or not he so intends on February the 10th... but its pretty likely he's already got his shorts, trainers and socks on, otherwise he'd be pretty foolish to have said anything at all regarding the matter.

    The Economist also confirmed something even I already knew, that Hilary Clinton will be a contender in the big American race, come 2008. With the support of America's most charismatic President yet, and the first man to ever make me watch the news, she could well give Mr Obama a sweatier and more ferocious contest than he'd bargained for - Even as a youngster I knew not what my mother meant by "sex appeal", but I knew Mr Clinton possessed something!

    I don't know much about politics... and certainly not about American politics, but I do know about making tough decisions. It looks to me as though Black women in America are going to have a lot to think about over the next two years. From where I sit, I have prematurely concluded that the more pressing issue for Black-American women will be the colour of their President as opposed to his (oops... uh... its) sex. But then again, I could be wrong... Like I said, I know next to nothing about politics.

    One thing's for sure, America will be making history one way or the other in 2008, and this time, unlike the other 5 in my lifetime, I will be paying close attention - If not to the candidates, at least to sexy Bill! And if Mr Obama somehow metamorphed into a hottie before 2008... he'd be sure to get my vote, if no one else's.

    Luckily for the American public, I won't be able in anyway to influence the outcome of something so important to them using my unashamedly frivolous reasoning and powers of logic.

    One thing I do wonder though, is when I'll ever be able to do my little bit towards getting someone worth looking at onto the Nigerian Presidential stage? Or when I'll get to decide between a male Igbo/Ijaw/Itsekiri President, and a female one? When will the Nigerian body politik, or whatever its called, ever face a similar conundrum to its American counterpart? Are we destined to an eternity of stuffy, "homeward-bound" ( the new incumbent has kidney problems for goodness' sake!), non-south south, non-female and non-hottie Presidents?

    We don't have the same history as the States when it comes to the century-long oppression of a particular racial group within society, but we did have our own ethnic dilemma some decades back. Like America, will it take a few hundred years to get over? Or is there hope to be found in figures like the Duke and Okonji-Iweala? The treatment of the latter by the somewhat senile OBJ, who branded her a threat to his (non-existent) celebrity factor and dismissed her from his Cabinet, suggests we could be waiting a long loooong time.

    If it were to happen though, I'd certainly get off my backside and vote. Till then, I'm not so sure I see the point.

    Tuesday, January 16, 2007

    Yote Strikes Back

    The Coyote has decreed that he no longer wishes to have "the ins and outs of his private life published on the world wide blogosphere". As such, I have been through post after post deleting humorous anecdote after humorous anecdote to satisfy my spoil sport of a lover boy.

    I'm defaulting on the decree even now with this very post, but I'm in mourning over the loss of some great great work, and am thus willing to risk the wrath/sulking/whatever, that would ensue were he to eventually discover, one fine day, that even after he'd issued his command, I'd still gone ahead to write about him (Ooops.. held myself just now from writing "his sorry ass"... but that reeeally wouldn't go down well if he someday stumbled upon this blog now, would it? Talk about a close call!)

    I find it somewhat ironic that this "decree" was issued after I refused to share the link to this blog with him. Could it be that he's trying to get back at me? Or could it be that knowing what a blabber mouth his girlfriend is, he simply doesn't trust me to keep the private parts of our relationship private?

    (Hold it pervert! I didn't mean private parts. I meant... private parts! You know... the private stuff that makes a relationship a relationship? I should change it, but somehow, private bits doesn't quite cut it..)

    It serves me right though. I've done nothing but talk about blogs and bloggers and blogging for the last four days. To be honest, I'd even begun to worry that he hadn't once expressed the slightest bit of curiousity or interest in what I was getting up to. Well.. now he's expressed his curiousity, I've refused his request, and he's gone and flexed his mean "man-muscles" and layed down "the law".

    I should disobey... In fact, I should pay the meanie back by spilling every incy wincy juicy detail about our love life.

    But then...

    I'm not going to.

    Not because I'm a chicken, but because...


    its him!

    Its my Yote.

    I wish I could be stronger...

    But I can't.


    Monday, January 15, 2007

    Pastor Perfect and the Poverty Poison

    Today's Pastor Perfect is a different pastor... So hold your horses and give me a minute to run with this.

    There I was this afternoon, racing home from Law School to blog like some complete loser... I turned on my stupid Mac Book (which by the way no one should even consider buying. By-pass the frikkin thing on the shelf, ignore the cheap price, and move on to a beta sumtin - the Power Book!). Oops... where was I? My Mac Book took forever to start up, I logged into my gmail account, did a little loser-ish dance because Mikoo had left a comment, and poised myself to talk about the issue that I thought was too good to be missed. I was going to do a review of the movie E-weezy, Dabs, Rukkyfrocks, Max and I watched last night, which was destined to have my few readers howling with laughter, and I was ready to begin.

    Above the email that got me all giddy - "[Bitchy in the City] New comment on Pastor Perfect and his Poison Pen" - was a different email from Mikoo herself titled "Rev. King". I wasn't going to open it because I knew it was yet another Reuben Abati article (hehe) but decided to be gracious as she'd been so nice and left a comment on my blog.

    Now.. I have no choice but to talk about the good Reverend King, because its just too good a flippin opportunity to pass up! Damn you Mikoo!

    If you haven't read the article, I apologise, but there's no way I'm pasting up the whole thing. That Reuben dude is long-winded in every sense of the word. The article on Rev. King today was the first one, of the million Mikoo's sent, that I've actually managed to finish!

    To summarise:
  • The good Rev. King, or sorry, "The Most Holiness Dr Reverend King", as he insisted on being called in Court, was a loon.

  • He used young women as sex slaves, hypnotised their dummy fathers, brothers and friends into handing them over, and required them to serve him naked and "warm" his bed.

  • He also "enslaved" his congregation who were required to pay a fine of N25,000 if they coughed during the service, and were flogged with rods, hit on their heads with sticks, or assigned a bedroom punishment (in the case of the ladies), when they were "naughty".

  • He was tried for the creme de la creme of actions after, on July 22 2006, he sprayed six members of his congregation with petrol and set them on fire because of his outrage at the fact that a prized sex slave of his, Vivian, had been unfaithful to him, and they had known about it.

  • During his trial for murder, he slapped a trial witness, refused to obey court procedures, and then promised to meet his persecutors at "the gate of judgement", after he was sentenced to death.

    What comes to mind is the image of a deranged baboon who should've been locked up in Yaba Asylum and severely medicated from the date of his birth. The nut-ball thought himself to be the Christ, or if not the Christ, someone with direct access to God, who could "rain down fire on the whole world" with just a few words in a matter of minutes.

    What's more astounding (although considering that these events took place in the Nigeria that we know and love, perhaps we shouldn't be so surprised) is the congregation members who stood by their "Daddy" and "Lord". While the mad man's trial lasted, his bearded followers insisted that he was merely being persecuted as Christ had been, and would triumph in the end!!

    The writer of the article went on to blame the various Christian councils in Nigeria who he said should take more responsibility for investigating new churches and movements.

    He also blamed the Nigerian government for creating conditions in which people are so poor and desperate that they turn to any fool or mongrel with the promise of miraculous solutions to their molue-load of problems.

    Is anyone starting to think that "poverty" is being blamed for a few too many things these days? Poverty was blamed for the deaths of the hundreds of people who died at the Pipeline explosion in December, and poverty is now being blamed for the greed and opportunism that pushes certain people to extreme movements that they know are far from the truth. Forgive me for the generalisation, because we all know there were some real dummy donuts in there who thought Rev. King was their ticket to salvation. But then we also know that there were many others who decided they were going to follow a man, wicked as he was, because of the promises of a better car, house and recognition as a "big man" at home in the village.

    Perhaps you could say that if people weren't so poor in the first place, then they wouldn't be lured and deceived by the mere promises of material comfort, which is fair enough. But then I just feel poverty is no excuse for being a fool. We instantly assume when we hear about people like Rev. King and that other wacko, T.B. Joshua, that their "flock" consists of the down and outs. But that isn't true! Rev. King's sex slaves were university graduates in search of the newest Louis Vuitton bag. T.B. Joshua's "converts" included (when I last saw a documentary about him) and still include teachers, clerks, and even some real dumb-ass white people who left the comforts of Scotland or wherever it is the two idiots I watched came from, to follow a man they believed to be true and good, even though he was sleeping with everything in sight and little children were being flogged in his Sunday School for refusing to sing testimony to " the mighty grace of T.B. Joshua, the man of God". I remember how creepy it was to see the words to the song written on the black board in their poky little room... I also find it incredibly creepy to see that I still remember the tune to the damn thing because I was just so appalled at the time that its obviously stayed in my mind!

    Why is it that one lady who sells boli on the side of the road in Ajah will go racing to such a church come Sunday, whilst her neighbour, selling akara, won't? Or why is it that one little kid will rather chop the beating of the century than sing about the grace of T.B. Joshua, whilst another will happily chirp away and even earn brownie points because he has such a good voice?

    I don't have the answer... So I'm leaving it there.
  • Sunday, January 14, 2007

    Pastor Perfect and his Poison Pen

    What is it about judgmental Christians that really gets to me! Their ridiculous habit of quoting Bible verses at you combined with their self-righteous criticism seep under my skin to the point where I find myself doing or saying things I would never normally do. I'm not saying they push me to do more naughty things... teehee! But they certainly push me to do things like stick up for total strangers that I don't even know!

    Yesterday I wrote about the new trend I've literally become obsessed with! For the last 3 days I have completely immersed myself in the Naija blogosphere. I've stumbled across a really rather tight-knit community in which total strangers have formed enviable, and what look to be long-lasting, friendships. The funny thing is they have different opinions about things and they all approach issues from completely different starting points. Some are married, others are... ehem... sexually liberated (teehee!), others are just plain hilarious to the extent that they border on ridiculous... whilst others are puritanical and judgmental and everything that makes people sigh, hiss and point fingers at the Christian message or faith or religion or whatever you feel most comfortable calling it.

    Today I left a comment on a blog by this girl called ONB. I put a link up to her blog on the sidebar yesterday when I came across her blog, cuz some of the stuff she writes is truly hilarious! She's also one of those brave people who opens themselves and their lives up to the scrutiny of others because she wants to get things off her chest, and like me, loooves to write! She's great at what she does but then she's also extremely honest about who she is and how she lives her life. A post she put up a couple of days ago (could be a week ago now.. forgive me, I know I'm stale okay?!) has probably made her blog the numero uno on blogger's counter in terms of the number of hits per day. In what I presume is her usual light-hearted manner, she revealed a little too much... ehem... personal info if you catch my drift. This info sparked a wave of comments, and the last time I checked, she'd received about 110.. all about this one post. Oops I think Bitchy's getting her facts wrong. The 110 comments she received were about the second post she put up in response to all the criticism on, and reactions, to her earlier scandalous post - that post itself only received about 60 or 70 comments I believe.

    Anyheeuuw she was reeeally angry when she wrote the post that received the 110 comments... and rightly so! I can't say I agree with her mode of expressing herself, as I'm always just a little of weary of being foul-mouthed on the net (... you all know I'm a chicken!), and I definitely don't condone the stuff she wrote about that brought on the onslaught, but I definitely do agree with how angry she was.

    You should've seen some of the shit people said in their comments... telling her she was a slut, that she had no decency, that they were "grieving" for her lost soul etc etc. It was just so patronising, and to me, the exact representation of everything that Jesus stood up against when dealing with the Pharisees and all those other hypocritical people.

    It also reminded me of this guy at Law School who came up to me randomly once. First, he called me "Sister Taminika" (In my stylish getup, trust me I looked nothing like someone called Tamanika!... Anyway I forgave the monkey, my name is just a tad difficult if you're a first-timer). Next, he started trying to force me to come to some weekly Bibly Study being run by himself at college. There was one happening that day, in like 2 hours' time or something, and I told him I'd arranged to do other things as I hadn't known about the Bible Study, but that I'd try and come the next week. Do you know what the monkey said next? "Ah... well... seek ye first the kingdom of God!" whilst sighing and shaking his stupid little {... insert the race that I habitually insult.. PS I am not a bigot!!...} head. I thought... "Uh... wait a minute, is this total stranger who I've been seeing for weeks now and who never once bothered to talk to me, or learn my name, even though I've been in his class all this time, and who is only talking to me now because he's heard through the grapevine that I'm a Christian, trying to give me a guilt-trip?!" The little {...} mugu didn't know he was pissing me off. He kept on.... He followed me down the stairs to the cafeteria talking at the top of his voice about "The Master" (his really rather scary pet-name for Jesus) and how he was coming back to send all the ignorant folk around us into "The Lake of Fire".

    The final straw was when our little {...} evangelist asked me, "So if you were knocking at the gates of our eternal home and The Master said to you - 'Why should I let you into my kingdom Tamanika? What have you done for me?', What would you say?" I was so shocked at this point that I just looked at him and said "Well first of all he wouldn't ask me that question. If you understood the concept of grace you would know that nothing we do on this earth can buy us a place in 'our eternal home'... that's not the point of living a Christian life." I felt a little pleased with myself because the monkey was silent for a while and then muttered some crap about how I did have a point. I started to look for ways to untangle myself from the very awkward conversation when he started to probe me about the church I go to. As soon as I said what it was, he started to go on about how much better his church is, and how "their good shepherd" is really gifted at caring for "his flock"! If I could've, I would've thumped him on the head, but I couldn't. I simply made it clear the conversation was over, and then called my friend, FT1, to rant and rage about the audacity of the stupid guy. I also swore that I would never go to his "stinking" Bible Study if that's what everyone there was going to be like... I was reeeally mad.

    Reliving that experience I now understand even more why ONB was so angry about the stuff that was said to her by similarly judgmental Christians like my little {...} friend. To think that even though he didn't see me as someone who needed "saving" (because I made it very clear to him that I was a Christian and not someone he could evangelise), he could still be so insensitive and condescending in his dealings with me, that in the end, even though I had been hunting for a Bible Study of sorts to drag my lazy sinful arse to, I became so angry that I swore and resolved never to give the idiot the satisfaction of seeing me at his Bible Study!

    I left a comment on ONB's page saying that Christians need to be very careful about their approach. What you say to someone, and how you say it can be so detrimental to the message that you're trying to get across. In the end, you rile people up to such an extent that even other Christians, who would ordinarily be open to what you have to say, end up blocking their ears like little kids, screaming "blalalalabla-I can't hear you-blalalalabla" just so they can cut out your annoying and condescending voice... and obviously you get nowhere.

    Gosh guys.... my first serious post! Wahey! Hehe... its rather amusing that the first time I decide to be serious I end up talking about religion, even though we all know I'm not exactly the most... ehem... qualified person. Teehee! Maybe its because its Sunday? I actually came on here determined to talk about Reality TV... but... emm... I still haven't done any work, and E-weezy, Dabs et al will be here any minute, so the Bitchy one must depart. Toodeloooooo

    Saturday, January 13, 2007

    Fluffy Bitch

    Poodles... I despise them... Always have.

    I despise them even more now that I see I've become one!!

    The last two days have been spent, aside from plaguing the Coyote with planet-hopping plans, travelling the world wide bloggers' web. The majority of these have been blogs authored by my fellow "country-people" which have made me howl out loud with laughter.. but have also made me think.

    This blog doesn't make me, or anyone else think... It makes me laugh... and we all know it makes my Bitches laugh too, but is that enough? Bitchy is not convinced.

    I've never taken life seriously. I've taken certain aspects of life seriously - family, friends, education, religion, percy pigs, red lipstick, Yves Saint Laurent... goddammit I'm already being ditzy again! Okay... I'm joking.

    I was trying to say that I've taken certain bits of life seriously... very seriously. But I don't think I've ever taken life itself seriously. Perhaps that could explain why I find it hard to watch the news or read the papers... or why I had to give up my subscription to The FT after two months because it was turning out to be a complete waste of money.

    I don't know how to take serious things seriously... But all that's about to change! Yeeeaah man! The Bitchy One has come to the realisation that the years of fluff and umm... empty stuff... are over. They have to be over! Time to grow up Bitchy! Teeheeee....

    So stay tuned - my next post will be serious... very serious. It might even make you cry...

    P.S. I believe I deserve a pat on the back even though I accepted defeat and got rid of the FT subscription I bragged about months ago. I may not have broadcast this info at the time, but I replaced it with a subscription to the Economist, which I have slowly grown to (a) understand and (b) find interesting.

    I will get there... I'm already on my way...

    Friday, January 12, 2007

    Pygmies in Bazaruto

    If you can tell me where Bazaruto is without cheating, by which I mean googling, I'll give you a tenner.

    This is Bazaruto..

    What has Bazaruto gotta do with pygmies? Well... umm... actually... nothing.

    I found this out yesterday, much to my dismay. The Coyote and I have been debating over a holiday spot for the last week now. You could say this is just a tad early, seeing as we can't actually go anywhere until June!! But flights're on sale, and Bitchy loves a good bargain... and Bitchy is also jobless as you know.

    To digress a little - What the hell is wrong with me? Ever since I got back to London, all I've done is look for distraction after distraction after distraction... anything to avoid facing the daunting pile of course consolidation work which grows steadily with each passing day. The recommendation from the course convenor last week was that we begin getting our material in gear because the next five weeks (before exams and disaster and crying spells hit) will go by really quickly. Needless to say I have done no such consolidation, and have already begun steeling myself for the exams and disaster and crying spells that will hit... and will hit hard!


    Its in Mozambique. The Coyote brought this up (Mozambique, not Bazaruto specifically) on Thursday amid talks about Cuba, Miama, Brazil and the like. Displaying my ignorance, or ignoramusness (which feels more appropriate, as I really am incredibly ignorant), I said "What the hell do I wanna do in Mozambique... Its boring". He simply sighed and then allowed me to continue my pitch on the wonder and wonderstrosity that is Cuba. Eventually, we got off the phone, as you do when one of you actually has a job and things to do other than while away the wintry hours on Wikipeeedia and Conde Nast Traveller... and then I googled it.

    Mozambique is beautiful. Maputo, in Mozambique, I can't vouch for. That was the first place I googled because its the only place in Mozambique I've ever heard of - Oi! Give me credit... At least I actually knew the name of the capital city in the bloody place. I didn't even know where on the map it was at first! And before you even say or think (since you refuse to comment on my blog) anything along these lines.. Yes I knew it was in Africa smart-ass... You didn't even know where Bazaruto was...

    Anyheeuw... Maputo apparently used to be a tourist hot spot until some civil war or something in or about 1992 when it was wrecked and harangued by rebels or guerrillas or somebody - check me out with my Economist-type lingo!

    But Bazaruto on the other hand... is amazing. I got so excited and looked at resort after resort. I eventually..

    ------ HALT ------

    The Coyote has made it clear that he no longer wishes to have the ins and outs of his life published on the world wide blogosphere.

    The rest of this post has been deleted.

    For the umpteenth time (and I really do mean it).. I GRIEVE!! Talk about a SPOIL sport!!

    Thursday, January 11, 2007

    Toasty, Not Roasty or Frosty, Finally.

    Threatened with instant replacement, my boiler appears to be back from the dead. For the first time in forever, I passed a night without having to rip off sweat-soaked pyjamas and then scramble desperately for them two hours later when the ridiculous, neurotic thermostat thing suddenly decides its had enough of warming my backside.

    Shows what you can achieve when you stand in front of an inanimate object and declare to 'him', solemnly and without the slightest hint of anger, that tomorrow, with God as your witness, you will call the boiler people, and they will come and take him away, and he shouldn't come crying to you when he finds himself crumpled in a trash heap with other skanky-ho boilers, on his way to becoming scrap metal!!

    Wednesday, January 10, 2007


    Weave your food into cloth for me.
    Spin the lettuce fine.
    Stud it with seeds and jalapeños.
    Add a spool of spinach.
    Cross and hook and loop it together.
    Make a shiny, wet bolt.

    Knead it into dough for me.
    Roll it slowly into a crepe.
    Lay it in a glass dish
    and bake it.

    Remove. Spread it out flat and warm
    and get your tools.
    Make me pants. And a coat.
    Hat and a belt.

    Cook me a skin.
    Chill it. Brush it with oil.
    Squeeze lemon over it.

    Then groom me.
    Dress me.
    Garnish me.
    And take me to dinner.

    Words By The Bitchy Poet

    "Glam! Glam!! Glam!!!"

    I'm surprised I've come back to blog this soon after my last post. Then again, I have spent the last half hour searching frantically for something other than the pile of work beside my laptop, or pile of laundry on the kitchen floor, or pile of clothes stagnating in my suitcase, to occupy my time with.. So I guess it isn't so surprising that I eventually made my way to "Bitchy in the City". I'm just thankful I don't have to do any of the above-listed things now... And I'm determined to find something non "dear diary" to write even though nothing at all has yet sprung to mind.

    A week from Saturday I'm getting a group of very fashionably- and very glamorously-dressed people together to celebrate my birthday for the second time. Some might call me a "diva", I prefer to think of myself as a "genius". What better way to mark the last birthday in my life that my parents will feel obligated to pay for, than to have not one.. but two birthday parties in not one.. but two different countries? Paris H did it! And yes.. Daddy Bitchy is no son of Conrad Hilton, but he's got his fair share of paper!

    The dress code on Saturday is "Glam! Glam!! Glam!!!" - ask me where the hell I came up with that shit! I'm now feeling incredibly stiffed up by my own stupidity as, if I'm still in the state I'm in now, on Saturday, then I will be the shabbiest pimpliest attendee at my own party. One thing's for sure... I'll be wearing red lipstick!

    What is it about red lipstick that makes women look like women, and makes girls look like girls trying to be women? I have no idea. What I do know though, is that the last time I tried to wear red lipstick, which was about 4 years ago, I rubbed it all off and walked away from the Mac counter at Selfridges as quickly as I could. I didn't think about it again, except in nightmares, until last Saturday, at 1.32pm, when for some bizarre reason (especially as I was already running late for a hair appointment by a good half hour), I suddenly decided to give The Red Bitch another go. The thought literally popped into my head. I hadn't thought about it for 4 years, but all I knew at that moment was, that I was in Selfridges, on the ground floor, and that I was going to walk from men's underwear, to Mac, and I was going to put on red lipstick, and I was going to like it.

    I later revealed that weird and extremely random decision to the Coyote (the reason I was in men's underwear). He called me a "nutter".

    I did do it though. I did walk up to Mac. Refusing to be intimidated by the weird/funky Afro'd and Tranny staff milling around, I surveyed the rows of cosmetics and then moved myself into prime position.. right above the lipsticks. I had eyes only for the rows of red... and they led me to my first candidate.

    The first bitch was the identical twin to the polish on my toes.. A true coincidence that Afro'd Mac chic, who popped out of nowhere after I slathered it on, pointed out. I'm still wondering how exactly she managed to peer through the stencils in my pumps and work that out without at least bending over. Perfect for the toes, Red Bitch Numero Uno was bright and... uh.. bright. She wouldn't have worked on a daily or even nightly basis, but she did definitely draw my attention to one crucial fact on the crux of which the whole mission lay. Even though she was bright, and somewhat OTT, her presence on my lips was not disturbing to me. In fact, I did pout and purse my puckers for a good few seconds, with ease, before deciding that Red Bitch 01 hadn't done the trick. Unlike the first time, I realised, I wasn't darting for the tissue and bruising my lips in the process, I was simply moving onto the next candidate and would keep doing so, until I found the right one.

    Red bitch 02 was slightly more subdued, and incredibly sophistikaaaaat! I pouted and pursed in the mirror and did the mandatory twirling (to check out the different angles of course) ... but wasn't convinced. And then Afro'd Mac chic took a step closer (proving she was much more than just a big black Afro) and drew a line around my already rather sophistikaaaat lips. Lip liner (something I had long forgotten about after my resolution 2 years ago to stick to British Airways Molton Brown lip balm and nothing more) sealed the deal.

    I knew I liked the look but I needed Afro'd Mac chic to butter me up, so I said I wasn't sure. Just as I had hoped she began ranting and raving about how purrrfect this shade was.. etcetera etceterooo. I'm not an idiot.. I knew she was saying it because she was paid to, but I needed to hear it - If a sales attendant refuses to rave about something you've tried on, then it looks SHIT on you and you should be in tears for ever having been foolish enough to put it on.

    I walked away from Mac feeling relatively assured, but wanting even more assurance. I'm greedy... you know this! I needed more. As luck would have it, I ran into someone I knew, when I (eventually) made it to the hairdresser's. She didn't mention the lipstick at first. A little while later I asked... and then she raved. If she was a hater, I would've doubted her, but then she's the little sister of an amigo (the very blunt little sister) who once asked me why I'd drawn "ugly" black lines along my eyebrows, when I was 11. She'd been 8 at the time... and I had wanted to die.

    Further confirmation came from [ehem.. codename] Miss Bradshaw, a friend who was staying with me over the weekend. I got home before she did, and as soon as she walked in, she raved first about the hair, and then, about the lips.

    And with that... it was settled.

    So come next Saturday, when everyone's looking glam, glam and more glam, I won't feel so bad.. Not with Red Bitch 02 purring on my puckers, making me feel and look.. sophistikaaaaaaat!